Mothman's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Mothman pressed his furry palms against his temples as another vision shattered through his mind. The old wooden bridge. Splintering timbers. Screaming people falling into murky water. His red eyes squeezed shut, but the images kept coming like broken glass cutting through his thoughts. He needed to warn them. The town feared his black fur and glowing eyes, but maybe this time they would listen. He stumbled forward through the cattails, antennae drooping. The fragments wouldn't stop. Tomorrow. Fog. He had to make them understand before people got hurt. If he could just find a way to reach everyone at once, they might take him seriously. Trust had to start somewhere. His wings caught on twisted branches as he pushed toward town. Then he saw it—a wooden message board covered in colorful posters and handwritten notes. People checked it every day. They would see his warning there. Mothman's clawed fingers trembled as he searched for something to write with. "When mist embraces timber's span, beware the crossing made by man," he whispered, practicing the words. The riddle felt safer than plain speech, less frightening somehow. He grabbed a piece of charcoal from beneath the board. The message had to be clear enough to save them but gentle enough not to scare them away. Tomorrow the bridge would fail. Today he would try to earn their trust, one careful word at a time.